Always our Lucy
by whitetiger91
Summary: Lucy Weasley, eleven year old destined for greatness. She'll go to Hogwarts, become a prefect and Head Girl, and then graduate to become the future Minister for Magic. Simple, right? Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, round 8. (p.s. actual word count under 3000... there's a lot of A/N at the end... sorry!) Image created by Shane (NightmarePrince) :)


**Always Our Lucy**

A pool of light filtered through the circular window, casting warmth upon the small, wooden kitchen table. Lucy smiled in delight, inching her chair closer to the table and lifting a hand up. She could see the little particles of dust floating in the light and waggled her fingers to stir them around. It was about time the sun had shown its golden face again; for too long during the summer the clouds had cast their shadows over the town.

As the dust particles continued dancing and swirling around through the air, Lucy turned back to her diary. She had been in the middle of detailing an exciting entry and could not bear to leave the rest of the parchment bare. Now where was she? Oh yes, deciding upon her Hogwarts house. Dipping her favourite peacock- feather quill into the purple ink pot, she began scribbling away.

 _Ravenclaw will most definitely suit me. I'd like to be brave like my uncles and aunts, but in my heart I just know Ravenclaw will be better for me. Everyone in that house is smart – very smart – and I know I will fit right in! And when I become a Minister, most likely the Minister of Magic, I can tell everyone it was because I studied hard with my housemates._

 _I already have some old textbooks of Molly's that I've been studying, so I'm sure I'll be ahead of the rest of them. And guess what? Yesterday Molly was even nice enough (yes diary, I know what I've said before, but really, Molly isn't too bad sometimes) to give me her old wand! When I finish writing I will grab the textbook next to me and start practising… without telling Mum and Dad of course. Speaking of which, I think I heard them say my name. Better go and find out what they want!_

 _Yours most truly and faithfully,_

 _Luce. Xoxo_

Sticking her tongue out in concentration, Lucy signed off her name and decorated it with a few hearts and stars. There, perfect.

"No owls yet dear. It'll come, I'm sure of it."

"Will it? Molly already has hers – they're supposed to come at the same time, aren't they? Minerva is always very particular about those sorts of things."

"It'll come…" Lucy's father whispered, though his voice wavered.

Lucy rolled her eyes as her parents hugged each other in the next room. Really, one would think they were waiting for their Hogwarts acceptance letters. She was sure hers would come any day now. It was a little inconvenient that she did not yet know the full list of books required for her first year, but what did it matter if it was a few days late? Their owl, Nox, had probably been blown off course in the fierce winds from the weekend before. That was all.

"Fetch me a glass of water please Luce," Molly demanded suddenly, startling Lucy out of thoughts of Thestrals going after owls.

Lucy narrowed her eyes at her sister as the girl perused one of her textbooks. Molly's nose was always stuck in one book or another, and though Lucy admired her sister for her willingness to get ahead with her work, she resented the fact that Molly seemed to get bossier and bossier. The air of superiority Molly revelled in had only gotten worse in the last two days when she received a prefect's badge, which she now wore every day and polished at night.

"Come on," Molly continued to read as she waved an empty glass out at Lucy.

"If you can't tell, Molly, I am busy myself. I have very important work to do, you know, and I cannot be expected to fetch you drinks. Go buy a house elf or something," Lucy snapped, opening one of the textbooks in front of her to a random page.

Molly glanced up and rolled her blue eyes. Standing up, she scraped the chair back dramatically and picked up her own book.

"Really, I wouldn't bother with that if I were you," Molly warned as she flounced off towards the staircase.

"Why ever not? I'll be learning this soon enough and, if you must know, I think it's actually easy," Lucy retorted.

She straightened her back in the chair and lifted her chin defiantly.

Molly had paused at the bottom of the stairs, one auburn eyebrow raised. Her mouth opened as if she was going to argue, but an unreadable emotion flitted across her face briefly and she closed her mouth.

"Suit yourself," Molly whispered, shaking her head sadly.

Lucy shrugged, looking back at the window. Already, the sun was beginning to fade beneath the scattered grey clouds. She could see the tips of tall pine trees in the distance swaying in the breeze as birds fluttered noisily amongst the branches. Scanning further along the horizon, she could make out a small, black dot steadily increasing in size as it came closer and closer…

"Post is here! Post is here!" Lucy jumped up, recognising Nox as he soared over the barn's rusty roof.

Quickly, she leapt towards the window, pushing against the pane until it spun open. Nox landed on the sill, reaching out a small brown leg before he even hopped through onto the bench. Lucy caught him before he could stumble into the sink, and hastily began to untie the small pile of envelopes attached to his leg.

Lucy's father and mother came rushing into the room, standing in the doorway as they watched Lucy flick through each letter. Even Molly made an appearance, walking back into the room with the pretence of filling her glass with water.

Lucy ignored them all, eyes greedily taking in the names on each envelope. One would be for her, she was sure. Maybe she had even been made a prefect herself? That had never happened for a first year before, but maybe Professor McGonagall knew how smart and responsible her sister was and simply had to have Lucy on board as well. Her hands shook as she put each envelope onto the bench.

Mr Percy Weasley, Mr P Weasley, Mrs and Mrs P Weasley, Miss M Weasley, Mr Weasley. Lucy's eyes frantically checked and double checked each one, yet no 'Miss Lucy Weasley' could be found. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and shrugged her shoulders.

"They're all for you."

Her father and mother exchanged a worried glance but didn't say anything. Lucy found herself shrugging again and picked up her diary, sure Molly would try to read what she had written.

* * *

 _~Two days later~_

" _Petrificus Totalus._ _Petrif-ic-us Totalus._ _Petrificus Total-us_ ," Lucy sat upon her soft quilt as she waved Molly's wand around and around.

Her sister's old charms book was sitting propped open against her pillow, turned to the page on levitation spells. Flickering candlelight illuminated pictures of a wizard waving his wand up and down with a wave and a twist motion. Lucy squinted her eyes again, trying to copy his exact movements.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ " Lucy aimed the wand at her stuffed dragon, Mr Tobias.

Nothing happened. No sparks lit the tip; no beam of magic shot out. The small dragon simply had slumped over against the purple quilt, his sewn teeth grinning at her mockingly. What was she doing wrong?

Molly had said that this spell was one of the easiest, and better yet, most useful, to learn. In fact, their aunt Hermione had managed to perfect the spell in the very first lesson they had been taught it. Perhaps Lucy was saying it wrong – after all, English was her first language, not Latin. She had copied the small wizard's motions correctly, so it couldn't be that… maybe it was Molly's wand? Her sister had broken the wand in her third year and though it had been repaired, maybe only the amazing Ollivander could really fix it?

Throwing the wand onto her bed and slamming the book shut, Lucy stretched her arms high into the air. Outside her bedroom window the stars were twinkling nice and bright, signalling that tomorrow would be another beautiful day. Her letter would come, she was sure of it; many more letters had come that week since the weather had cleared, so hers was bound to follow shortly. When it did, she would be able to get her own wand – one that would work brilliantly.

Stretching again, she stifled a yawn. It was eleven o'clock – time for a break anyway. She could practice more tomorrow. Right now, she would get a glass of milk from the kitchen.

Placing her feet into her fluffy blue slippers, Lucy crossed her room and headed out the door. She quietly tiptoed down the staircase, remembering at the last minute to skip the third one from the bottom that always emanated a loud squeak. She didn't want to wake anyone up, especially when it was well past her bedtime.

It seemed she needn't have bothered however, for the living room light was on and whispered voices drifted to her. Quietly, she crouched down on the step, not sure if she should run back up to the safety of her bedroom or stay and listen. On the one hand, it was better not to be caught eavesdropping – it certainly wasn't polite adult behaviour. On the other hand, adult conversation could be very interesting. As her mind warred with what to do, Lucy eventually decided to plonk down on the step and listen as she heard her name being mentioned.

"It's not Lucy's fault, Percy. Really, you put too much pressure on the girls. Look at poor Molly, pacing around her bedroom since she arrived home just waiting to see if she would be a prefect," her mother's voice was low, almost angry.

Not another fight. More than once that week, Lucy had caught her parents snapping at each other over the littlest things. Her mother would accuse her father of being too grouchy, and he would accuse her of being too calm. About what, Lucy did not know, but she was sure she was about to find out.

"I know, I know," her father sighed resignedly. Lucy thought his voice sounded sad, worried even. "I blame myself too. They've said these things happen, but I just didn't think it would happen to our family. After all, generations of Weasleys have been fine – why would a, a, a mutation like this happen now?"

"It's not a mutation! It's just something natural that happens from time to time – and not just to Purebloods," Lucy's mother scolded.

A mutation? Who had a mutation? What was a mutation? It reminded Lucy of a mutant alien that one of her Muggle neighbours always went on about. Molly seemed like one of those alien things to Lucy – were her parents talking about Molly being glued to her books and not having any friends? Were they annoyed that Lucy always teased Molly about it?

"But Audrey, they have proof now. Too much past… breeding… has been shown to cause abnormalities in future generations, even hundreds of years down the line. The Weasleys… the Prewitts… every one of them have crossed over the centuries. It just frightens me to think that this could happen to us… I guess sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever, huh?" her father sighed, his throat sounding as though it was clogged.

"Will you stop being so stubborn? We don't even know if she is one. Yes, her letter hasn't come, and yes, Pureblood history isn't the best, but that means nothing! I'm sure she's shown magical indications over the years and we've simply missed it! And-" her mother continued before her father could interrupt, "even if she is, we'll still love her anyway, won't we?"

Lucy's breath caught and she strained her ears to listen. Who wouldn't they still love? Why?

"Of course we will, of course we will. Squib or not, Lucy will always be our beautiful daughter," her father eventually sighed, and Lucy heard her mother rubbing soothing circles on her father's back.

At least, Lucy would've heard it if it had not been for the steady pounding of her heart as it threatened to burst forth from her chest. A low humming filled her ears as her lips parted, repeating what she had just heard. Hot tears prickled at the corners of her hazel eyes, threatening to spill over the moment she managed to blink.

She was a Squib? They thought she was a Squib? No, that wasn't possible, it couldn't be! She could perform magic, she had- No, this wasn't happening, it wasn't, it was a nightmare…

Lucy stood, twirled around and pounded up the stairs back towards her room. She didn't care if she woke anyone now; they could sod off for all she cared. It wasn't fair, it simply wasn't fair!

Somewhere in her subconscious, she could hear her father frantically calling after her. Footsteps echoed her own as she ascended the stairs, but already she was able to block them out as she slammed her door shut. Finding force she did not know she had, she pushed her dresser against the door, preventing anyone from entering.

"Lucy!" her father thundered on the door, desperately calling her name.

Lucy ignored him and flew onto her bed, the tears now streaming down her face. They made her cheeks sticky and wet, strands of red hair clinging to them, but she didn't care. She just wanted to tear her hair out, to scream and stomp, to- to- Ahh!

Lucy picked up the textbook on her bed and began to tear and rip away at the crisp parchment. One page, another page, and another; she wouldn't need it. When one of the pages would not come out so easily, she flung the book at the wall. Picking up another, she gripped and pulled and tore at the cover until she could crumple each page.

"Lucy, please," her father begged, more quietly this time. His voice sounded strangled.

"Go away!"

"Lucy…"

"I said, go away!" Lucy picked up Mr Tobias and chucked him at the door. Immediately, she felt bad at hurting her soft toy as she watched it rebound off the door and land with a soft 'thud' upon her dressing table.

She stood for a moment, her breaths coming out in painful rasps as she listened for her father or mother. It was all silent behind the door. Feeling all her energy suddenly leave her, she slumped to the floor, head bowed. Her eyes were now stinging and her head pounded, yet she could not stop the tears from trickling down.

Rocking herself back and forth, she tried to calm herself down. This was not happening, this was not happening. I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm going to Hogwarts. I'm a witch… the tears only spilt forth more and she shook her head in denial. How was this happening? She wasn't a witch, she was a Squib. A lousy, rotten, disappointing Squib!

* * *

Lucy blinked slowly as the harsh sun shone in her eyes. They still ached from the night before, as did her head. However, as she sat silently at the kitchen table, she refused the potion her mother offered her.

"Please Lucy, you'll feel better."

"Unlikely," Lucy stirred around her porridge, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

She knew Molly was probably smirking at her, joyful that she would now be the only one to graduate Hogwarts; the only one to become a Minister. Lucy on the other hand would be stuck as a boring old housewife, destined to make gooey, bland porridge as her husband – if she could get one – marched off to work.

The only reason Lucy had agreed to come down that morning was because she could not stand seeing her room in such a mess. As she had painfully opened her eyes earlier that morning, she had hoped that it was all a dream – a nightmare. Yet when she did, her room was still a disordered chaos fit only for a pig. Or a Squib.

"The post is here!" Molly said, eyes still in a book.

Lucy's father shot her a warning look before glancing at his wife worriedly. "I'll get it," he offered, and opened the window for a large, tawny owl.

Lucy pushed away her bowl, suddenly keen on leaving the room. She didn't want to stay here in this happy little hovel with her magical family one second longer.

"Audrey, oh Audrey, look," Lucy's father gasped.

"Oh thank Merlin!"

"Lucy, look, it's for you!"

Pushing her chair from the table, Lucy stood.

"I don't care," she muttered, but despite herself, looked up. There, in her father's hand, was a letter addressed to her in emerald ink.

Her father held out the letter to her, beckoning her to take it. His eyes were shining as a huge, relieved smile brightened his face. "Go on, take it, I think you'll want to."

Lucy felt her hands trembling as she snatched the envelope out of his hand. Turning it over, she saw that it was addressed from Hogwarts.

"Well, I'm not opening it if you're all going to stare at me like that!" she snapped, but her own grin was spilling across her lips.

Carefully, her heart beating rhythmically against her chest once more, she slipped open one side of the envelope with her finger. It took a few moments before she could pull out the letter and hold it steady, her hands shaking more than ever, but when she did, she felt her heart leap.

"Well?" Molly asked impatiently, her eyes also watching the proceedings.

Lucy shook her head, unable to answer for a moment. A lump had risen to her throat, and she tried to form her words as fresh tears sprung to her eyes.

"I told you it was just late," she finally managed to choke out, laughing shakily as her father and mother enfolded her in a tight hug.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I do not own any characters or themes you recognise.**_

 _ **A big thank you to AliLancer from Gryffindor LL team for stepping up and beta'ing this for me. Without your advice and help, this fic would still be riddled with SPaG and flow errors. Seriously, thank you! And Go Gryffindor and Falmouth! Woot!**_

 _ **After a BYE round, I'm back with another Quidditch League entry. For this round we were required to write about one next-gen Weasley child, and hence I chose Lucy Weasley. I don't particularly like the next-gen (or at least writing about them) and know almost nothing about them, so hopefully you will accept how I think about Lucy. However, I have always been fascinated by the concept of Squibs, and since this round sort of gave me free run, I thought why not do a fic about someone thinking they are a Squib? I have a theory that I've discussed on the Diagon Alley II forum (which I am now a moderator of, yay!) that Squibs are like a genetic mutation in Pureblood families (read: inbreeding). Sort of like how haemophilia and other genetic disorders (term used with respect) are common in the royal families from generations of, uh, pureness (again, no disrespect intended). Hence, I thought this would be a realistic worry in families like the Weasleys, who with so many children, nieces and nephews, probably don't pick up on their children not performing magic as they are so used to them actually performing it.**_

 _ **Thank you for the amazing reviews and feedback you have left so far- a smile was definitely brought to my face :) For those wondering why Percy just left her alone to cry, there were two reasons he didn't: 1) with a short word count I did not have enough words left over for a big scene. I had originally thought of what he would say to her, but had to make the decision to leave as is. 2) More importantly, I think Percy would be the type of parent who thinks his child needs time to think rather than forcing them to cope. I take this from the books and movies (my own interpretation) where he doesn't seem willing to deal with family issues, not because he doesn't love them, but he's not sure how to handle it and thinks he knows best. Case in point: he's too stubborn to talk with his family during the HBP because he thinks he's right in following the Minister. Either way, he does love Lucy, but feels she needs some time before they talk... which doesn't need to happen anyway haha.**_

 _ **Anyways, I will leave you with that thought, and I hope you enjoy this! :)**_

 _ **Oh, my prompts are also underlined in the story, and are as followed:**_

 _ **(word) diary**_

 _ **(word) stubborn**_

 _ **(quote) 'Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever'- Keri Russell.**_


End file.
